The Countryside Holiday
by marinoa
Summary: When the war at long last ends, Gilbert goes to France to spend his holiday in his best friend's country home. He expects to have some awesome time, but what he doesn't expect instead is an angry Italian to spice up his life. AU.


_Author's note:_ My first Prumano fic! This is my first attempt of focusing on these characters in a fic, so I hope they are not too much out of character. Also, the war mentioned in the story is the Seven Years' War. This story is written for the Prumano Secret Santa, for _**felovabriel **_on tumblr_, _who wished for a historical AU.

**The Countryside Holiday**

What Gilbert first heard on entering Francis' mansion in the French countryside was a string of words he recognised as Italian cursing. Not that he had any actual knowledge of Italian, but curse words were something that the Prussian military officer had learnt to recognise on his numerous war travels, and Gilbert had had plenty of those in the course of the past years. Now, peace treaties were to be signed in a month or so, but the curses coming from an adjacent room, followed by a sound of something metallic hitting the stone floor, certainly made it look like for someone, war wasn't over yet.

Gilbert grinned at the awkwardly smiling elderly servant who had let him in, and strode past him to the staircase. It had been ages since he had last been able to visit Francis' home, but he had no trouble remembering where the parlour was. Francis would be waiting for him there.

France and Prussia had technically been been on the opposite sides in the past war, but Francis and Gilbert's friendship had not been affected by it, and so the Prussian had nothing but pleasant expectations of his visit.

Francis, apparently, thought the same, because as soon as Gilbert threw the door to the parlour open, the Frenchman hopped on his feet and approached him with open arms. "Gilbert! How good to see you, old friend!"

Gilbert slammed his back in greeting, unable to withhold a large grin. "You might have grown old, Franny, but I'm too awesome for that."

Francis snorted. "Please, even you can tell that I haven't aged a day."

Well, it was true; in his late twenties Francis looked exactly the same as he had in his early twenties, only now he looked less like a boy and more like a man. His long, blond hair was flawless as always, and the attire he wore followed (or better said, lead) the latest fashion. Francis had not attended any fights in the war, but he served as a diplomat, which, Gilbert guessed, was the reason for the dark circles around his eyes. The Prussian himself didn't look bad either; although his silver hair was unruly (even more so after his journey), and he lacked any elegant features that Francis had, he was lean and strong and in perfect health, and leading men into battles had given him a proud posture. No, time would not get its mark on him any time soon.

"Come, sit." Francis gestured towards a stylish sofa. "I will call for some wine. We have a lot of catching up to do."

In spite of having spent half a day on horseback in winds of early January, Gilbert felt energetic and relaxed, but his crimson hawk eyes noted masked weariness in his friend's manners when he told his servant to bring wine.

"Rough life?" he asked when the servant left.

Francis let out a groan and rubbed his temples. "If only you knew. I've been forced to deal with annoying Spanish and even more infuriating British diplomats, none of whom seem to actually understand what 'diplomacy' even means."

"You chose the wrong career. Told you so in the old days."

Francis ignored him in favour of pouring wine into their glasses, ushering the servant away again. "For the past months I've been travelling to various meetings and discussing various terms of treaty," he complained, making sure to shudder a bit to demonstrate the dreadfulness of his duties. "I returned home only last week."

Gilbert raised his glass and clinked it with Francis'. "You have reached an understanding, I've been informed."

Francis snorted and took a sip. "Understanding, yes. I don't know about that, but we are to sign the final peace treaty in Paris in a month or so. I could come up with a thousand things more worth my time than travelling to lovely Paris only to see the smug face of that British brute."

"We will sign a treaty, too, in Hubertusburg," Gilbert told him. "My cousin from Austria was one of the diplomats working on the treaty. He's a total wuss, by the way." He cackled a bit at the memory of his snobbish cousin who had been forced to swallow the victory of the great and undefeated Prussia.

"Well, at lest we have peace again."

"Want to bet for how many months?" Gilbert asked with a grin. These days peace was something as momentary as ash in the wind.

"Let's pretend for a while that we actually believe in the achieved peace," Francis suggested dryly and raised his glass again. "And anyway, I didn't invite you here to discuss politics. We are to enjoy these few well-deserved weeks free of duties, so raise your glass and drink with me."

Gilbert grinned. "Now that's what I wanted to hear!"

The evening passed pleasantly with wine, dinner, and the good company of a close friend. Many memories were visited and many mischiefs re-lived, but eventually, night got better of both the Prussian and the Frenchman.

"Come," Francis said, reluctantly forcing himself up from his comfortable sofa which he and Gilbert had occupied the whole evening. A small, satisfied smile appeared on his lips. "I haven't even shown you your room yet. The best guest room in the house and, I may add, reserved only for those who deserve it. I have only recently purchased a new bed there, you will be glad to hear."

"Like I needed such luxuries, I'm used to rough life," Gilbert, who indeed was exceedingly happy to hear that there was a comfortable bed waiting for him, boasted. Then he saw the familiar amused glimmer in Francis' eyes and continued before the Frenchman could say anything, "But it would be rude not to accept an offered room, especially as it has been already prepared."

Francis chuckled but said nothing, and led Gilbert to his room, located at the end of the hallway. The room was large and had big windows, and, naturally, was decorated with considerable taste; Francis had an eye for that sort of things. There was a merry fire crackling in the fireplace.

When Francis had gone, Gilbert threw himself on the large bed and rolled on the soft mattress to test it. Oh yes, this would be an awesome visit!

xXx

The following morning found Gilbert awake as early as usually, almost at first light; a comfortable bed was not enough to alter his inner clock – just as a holiday was not an excuse to skip his daily exercises. It wasn't that Gilbert was maniacally obsessed with following every rule or habit, far from it – it was just that he was energetic by nature and saw no reason to spend such a fine morning alone in bed.

Knowing full well that Francis wouldn't as much as crack his eye open any time soon, Gilbert decided to have an early breakfast and then go riding on his horse and exploring the surroundings of the mansion. After all, it had been a while; many things had probably changed.

Having decided this, Gilbert got quickly dressed in simple, plain clothes and headed downstairs for food. Fortunately, even as the cook hadn't expected him to rise so early, it took her only little time to prepare the Prussian a healthy bite of ham, cheese and freshly baked bread along with a bowl of porridge (by Gilbert's specific request). Assuring her that he didn't need anything fancy (he could have it later when Francis would finally rise), Gilbert withdrew to the dining hall to eat.

He was halfway through his meal when the door to the hall burst open and someone entered the room. Surprised, Gilbert looked over his shoulder just on time to see a young man slamming the door shut. The man was probably a servant, as he carried a bucket and a mop in his hands, but other than that, he didn't look like a servant. He was not wearing the servant's attire, and the Prussian had not yet seen a servant slamming doors like that. Gilbert peered at the man curiously, taking advantage of not having been noticed yet. The servant had not yet come far enough into the room to see the eating Prussian, so Gilbert could observe him freely. To Gilbert, he looked exotic; his skin was richly tanned, which stood quite out seeing that it was January, and his hair was a dark shade of brown. _Mediterranean, _Gilbert decided. Well played of Francis to find himself a Mediterranean servant.

Meanwhile, the servant dropped the empty bucket on the floor and then kicked it for a good measure. There was such a displeased scowl on his face that Gilbert couldn't help laughing out loud at it.

The servant practically jumped half a metre in the air and only then seemed to realise that he wasn't alone – he now saw the still cackling Gilbert. If possible, his expression soured even more.

Now, it was a fact that every officer had one well-guarded weakness, and Gilbert was not an exception to that rule. His weakness was this: cuteness. He had a special soft spot for everything cute, were it a bird or a puppy or a person, and he kept his secret well hidden while on duty. But now he was on holiday, in a friend's home no less, and damn if this servant with olive eyes, puffed, flushed cheeks and a curl of hair sticking out of the rest wasn't cute! He looked – he looked positively like a hamster when he was pouting so.

"What did that bucket ever do to you to deserve to be kicked like that?" Gilbert asked him, still grinning.

The answer wasn't what he had expected. "What the hell are you still doing here?" the servant snarled at him, glaring angrily.

This took Gilbert aback enough to rid him of any witty responses. "Huh?"

"I'm supposed to clean this fucking room and you're on my way! Why are you still eating?"

Well, that dropped the servant from the category of cuteness. "That's pretty insolent for a servant," Gilbert told him, frowning.

"I'm not a servant to you, fucker!" the servant snapped at him, all aflame. "Now get the hell out of my way!"

Now Gilbert was more than just a little irritated. He didn't demand for other people, even low by rank, to pay him any special respect, nothing more than what was strictly polite, and he generally liked people with some spirit of their own, but bitching to other people for no reason at all was something he couldn't stand. "What's your problem?" he asked. "Of course I'm allowed to eat here at any time I want, and if I'm not, it's not you who can say it to me. I don't know what Francis does to little brats like you, but were we in the military now, I would have you scrubbing horse shit off the boots of the entire unit!"

That seemed to give the servant a pause. He frowned, but then his eyes widened in what looked like horror. The mop fell from his hand. "Don't tell me – fuck." And just with that, he swirled around and fled the room, leaving a baffled Prussian to his meal.

However, Gilbert decided not to dwell on the matter further – he would ask Francis about the servant later. For now, he'd do just as he had planned and go riding.

It was almost eleven o'clock when Gilbert returned to the house, just on time to join Francis for his breakfast. The Frenchman was already sitting at the table when Gilbert found him.

"Good morning," Francis greeted him languidly. "I had already forgotten how dreadfully early you rise. Help yourself some food."

Gilbert was already in the process of filling his plate with all sorts of delicacies. Every healthy man was hungry after exercise. "Morning," he answered. "I had forgotten how fine your lands are. What happened to the pines near the river?"

"Some of them were taken by storm winds, so I had them all taken down. I take you had a pleasant morning then?"

"Yeah, but there's one thing. You have this little shit of a servant -"

Gilbert cut himself off as Francis burst into laughter. "What?"

"You met Lovino, didn't you?" Francis asked him, grinning.

"If that's how that bad-tempered Mediterranean is called, then yes."

"Him indeed. He's Italian, actually. How did you like him?"

Gilbert snorted. "Like? I didn't know you're into potty-mouthed servants these days."

"Actually, he's not a servant," Francis said. He ran his eyes up and down Gilbert's attire. "Though you might be mistaken as one, I may add."

"Hey, I was exercising!"

"I know, I know."

It appeared that Francis had a close friend in Spain, Antonio, and he had been Lovino's guardian of sorts. However, he had been sent overseas for an undefined period of time, and so he had entrusted Francis with the Italian. Francis hadn't demanded his new ward to work, but apparently Lovino had insisted on helping with some work to pay off some of the new expenses that Francis got along with him. That's why Lovino wasn't technically a servant, but as there wasn't much else for him to do, he worked as one for the first part of the day. He had most evenings to himself, but he seemed to dislike Francis for some reason, and so he spent time mostly in his own company.

"I've tried introducing him to neighbouring families, but he has made it clear that he hates dinner parties," Francis concluded with a sigh. "We really don't have a common language with him. I don't know how Antonio managed with him."

The mystery thus solved, Lovino was forgotten for the time being and the day was well spent in nearby town, which Francis wanted to show to Gilbert. The Prussian remembered Lovino only next morning, when he, having woken up early as was his habit, encountered the sour-looking not-servant in the hall. Lovino was mopping the floor beside the staircase, and when he noticed Gilbert coming down the stairs his cheeks darkened and his eyebrows crept together. He glanced around, as if in hopes of finding a quick escape, but Gilbert gave him no chances for that.

"Hey!" he said, hopping down the last stairs and stopping by Lovino, forcing the Italian to acknowledge his presence.

Lovino seemed to undergo an inner battle and lose it, because when he raised his head to almost meet Gilbert's yes, defiance was written all over his face. He blurted something out so quickly that Gilbert couldn't even make sense of his heavily accented French.

"What?"

"I thought you were a servant!" Lovino repeated, clearer this time but equally defensive when he finally met Gilbert's eyes. "But it's your own fault for rising so early and dressing like one, so you deserved it!"

Irritation gave a tug at the edge of Gilbert's mind. "Okay, what's so problem?" he asked. "You talk to me exactly in the same way as yesterday, even as you now know that I'm not a servant. And even if I was, treating people like shit is totally uncool."

Lovino turned pointedly away to continue washing the floor. He muttered his response so quietly that Gilbert had a hard time hearing what he said, but he caught it anyway, "Like I need you to tell me that."

"Huh? If you know you've got a problem, why do you still act like that?"

"You should know, shouldn't you?" Lovino shot him edgily. Gilbert lifted his eyebrows. "You know, were I not this awesome, that would've been pretty good comeback," he said.

Lovino didn't respond to that, so Gilbert looked down on the floor. It was easy to see where Lovino had washed and where not, because the floor was all wet where he had used his mop. However, even on the wet areas, Gilbert spotted smudges of mud.

"You are not doing very good job here," he pointed out.

"Fuck you."

"Look for yourself! There's still mud here, you've only smeared it further."

Lovino whirled around, about to say something, but his foot hit the bucket of water as he did so, and the bucket fell over, spilling muddy water all around. Gilbert yelped and jumped backwards to escape the flood, while Lovino crouched down to put the bucket in an upright position in vain attempt to stop the flooding. Gilbert heard him mutter something in Italian and belatedly realised that it must have been Lovino whom he had heard on first entering the house two days ago.

"Whoops," he laughed, looking at the large puddle in the middle of the floor. "Francis got a new lake."

The Italian shot him am angry glare. "Don't laugh at me, damn it!" he snapped, but his voice sounded strained, and when Gilbert looked, he was almost sure that the olive eyes were glimmering suspiciously.

"Hey, I wasn't -"

But he was interrupted by an older servant, who just came from the dining room. "Lovino! What is this mess, again! You are disgrace to us."

Lovino didn't answer anything, instead took his mop and began cleaning the water away. The elderly servant turned to Gilbert. "I beg your pardon, _monsieur_. Dare I hope your feet have not got wet? Excellent. I apologise for this mess."

Gilbert frowned a bit – one fallen bucket was hardly an end of the world. "Hey, no sweat, it was just an accident. No need to call anyone names here," he added, marking Lovino's strained face. He was blinking rapidly and quite obviously gritting his teeth together, if the tension in his jaw was anything to judge by.

"If you follow me, _monsieur_. I have been informed your breakfast is ready to be served," the servant said to Gilbert, guiding him towards the dining hall.

Gilbert followed the man and sat to his breakfast, the servant going away to continue with his responsibilities elsewhere. However, he found himself thinking of the Italian and the face he had made when Gilbert had laughed and the other servant had walked in. there was something there that was bugging him. Lovino had looked being on the verge of tears, but one puddle of mud water was hardly worth spilling one's tears for. On the other hand, the Italian had been a real asshole towards Gilbert, so why should he care? Gilbert shrugged to himself and returned to his porridge.

But then again... Cuteness _was_ his weakness. Even when spiced with asshole-ness.

Wondering what he was even doing, Gilbert quickly finished his breakfast and returned to the hall, where Lovino was kneeling and wiping the floor with some rags, still alone. He didn't raise his head until Gilbert stopped right in front of him. When the pair of boots stubbornly refused to disappear, he finally deigned to speak without looking up. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," Gilbert said and crouched to be on the same level with the Italian. "I wasn't laughing at you, you know, earlier."

"Yeah, whatever."

When silence threatened to continue, it was up to Gilbert to keep it at bay. "Does this happen often to you then?" he asked.

When Lovino slammed the rug in the puddle in a violent movement, Gilbert realised that he might have hit a sore spot with the question. Well, too late to take it back, now.

"Yeah it fucking happens to me often," he snapped. "Happy now? Good, fuck off and let me work."

Gilbert held up his hands. "Hey, still not laughing, it was an honest question!"

"Well, you got your answer."

_Wow, this guy must have fallen hard on his head as a kid_. "I'm actually making an effort to be nice here."

"Don't strain yourself."

Gilbert stared at the Italian, who had resumed to wiping the water away and did a good job ignoring the Prussian beside him. Now, Gilbert had been blessed with a full load of awesomeness, and he was well liked in the army, so having someone resist his awesomeness continuously for so long was odd. It was like this guy refused to even think of him as a cool guy. It was... it was a challenge towards his persona!

Determinedly Gilbert grabbed another rug and began cleaning the water from the floor. He was an officer by his rank, but the road to that position had been long and hard, and it hadn't left him unacquainted with many a rag and a dirty floor.

"What are you doing?" Lovino asked him, too astonished to even sound angry.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm helping you."

"But you are not a servant!"

"Neither are you, you said so yourself."

"You are a guest!"

Gilbert shrugged. "Nah, it's not a big deal." He grinned at Lovino, who was still staring at him. "Remember when yesterday I mentioned scrubbing horse shit from the boots of an entire unit? I actually had to do that when I had only entered the militia. Twice, in fact, to learn respect. He he, I was a bit cheeky at that time, I guess. So this -" Gilbert pointed at the puddle. "is nothing!"

Lovino stared at him for a few moments longer, and Gilbert was almost ready to swear that there was something akin to a smile tugging at his lips. _Aaand right back to the list of cuteness._

"Suit yourself," the Italian said. He resumed working, pointedly turning his back towards Gilbert again. A little disappointed (what had he even expected?), Gilbert shrugged and continued the task. But then he noticed that Lovino's shoulders were slightly shaking and groaned inwardly. So, the Italian ended up crying anyway. Well, he had tried.

The sound of laughter erupting free took Gilbert aback so that he nearly sat in the puddle. What was that? Was that _Lovino laughing_? The Italian's whole body was shaking as he gasped for breath, still visibly desperately trying to mask his laughter by keeping his back to Gilbert.

Gilbert was a person who loved to laugh, and so, after the initial shock, he joined the Italian of sheer amusement. It was nice to hear him laughing, after all those cusses and yells.

"What are you laughing at?" he finally asked. "Hey, turn this way, I want to see you!"

Surprisingly, the Italian obeyed. He was covering his face with his arm, until the fits of laugher began to fade. He shook his head. "N-nothing. Just- just the picture of you scrubbing all that shit... so fitting!"

"Hey," Gilbert laughed. "Look where it took me! I'm an officer now, and pretty awesome at that, too."

Lovino only harrumphed and squeezed water from the rag into the bucket, but there was still a small smile on his face.

xXx

"You know," Gilbert said contemplatively, raising his glass and squinting into the red liquid inside. "Lovino isn't half that bad after all. When you get to know him a little."

"Hmm?" Francis cast him a curious look. "Been spending quite a lot of time with him lately, have you?"

Gilbert shrugged, purposefully avoiding his friend's eyes. "Why not? We both rise early."

Francis smiled. "I didn't say there was anything wrong with it."

It was the end of Gilbert's second week at Francis', and the two friends were spending a quiet evening together. During those weeks Francis had shown Gilbert around the country and taken him to nearby towns, and once or twice even accompanied by Lovino. There were also other estates not too far from Francis mansion, so they had plans to dine and generally spend time with the neighbouring families as well. Gilbert's morning routines had not changed, and he kept bumping into Lovino nearly every morning – and not quite accidentally, truth be told. Lovino was really grumpy most of the time, but Gilbert had already learnt that that was because the Italian hated waking up early, which explained some of his crankiness. Yet behind that scowl there was a person worth the spent time, Gilbert knew – he had seen glimpses of that person in rare but real little smiles that Lovino tried to hide from him. It wasn't that they spent all their mornings together, though; they only talked a bit when Gilbert managed to find the Italian and bug him into conversation.

Gilbert wanted to get to know him better than that, though. As he had said to Francis, Lovino wasn't that bad most of the time, and they had even found a mutual dislike for Austria and rejoiced in its losses in the war. Lovino also had a little brother, like Gilbert, but he didn't know much about him, only that he was somewhere in Austria. That interested Gilbert, because he knew that his Austrian cousin had an Italian servant, too, one about Lovino's age. When he mentioned that to the Italian, however, Lovino merely shrugged. He didn't seem too eager to talk about his brother and wasn't even keen on seeing him again. Gilbert, on the other hand, would gladly tell the Italian all of his own little brother, Ludwig, whom he had left at home. In short, the Prussian had quickly grown some sort of resistance against Lovino's edginess, and he felt that most of the Italian's spikes were for show, anyway. It was weird, but Gilbert was intrigued to learn more about him, and he was determined to do so, too.

Francis' voice brought him back to the present. "So," the Frenchman started languidly, twirling wine in his glass and smiling slyly at Gilbert. "Is there anyone... special in your life presently?"

Gilbert lifted his brows at his friend's tone. "Nope. The queue is long, but I haven't picked anyone interesting enough yet."

Okay, maybe the queue wasn't really that long at all, for some reason, and maybe it would be nice to actually have somebody to nuzzle against at nights and keep stealing kisses from in daytime, but Francis needn't know that; Gilbert didn't like talking about what he didn't have.

"I see."

"Well, what about you? I don't see anyone warming your bed, either."

Francis cringed at the question and took a sip of his glass. "No, I wouldn't say so, no."

But Gilbert had marked the short pause before Francis' answer. "Oh? Are you sure?" He grinned suggestively. "What exactly would you say, then?"

Francis frowned at him, but then sighed and resigned. "It's complicated," he admitted.

"Really? Who is it?"

"No one worth mentioning, really."

"You brought the topic up first, and you did mention them already, so out with it."

"I'd rather not. You would get some stupid ideas, I'm sure."

"Me? Never! My ideas are awesome and you know it! Come on Franny, tell a friend! Who else is going to give you tips for your conquest? I need to know more to give my advice!"

Francis snorted. "Courting tips from you? No thank you, I'd rather stick to my own experience."

"Don't be a killjoy, give me at least a hint."

"Oh, if that's going to make you shut up, fine. Let's say that I have my eyes set to the north."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "North?" Then his face lit up. "Do you mean Paris?"

"Mm, well, I'm meeting him in Paris in two weeks, yes."

Gilbert pouted. "Won't I even hear a name?"

"No! Hush, let us not speak of this." Francis raised his hand to theatrically massage his temple. "Truth be told, even thinking of him is giving me a headache."

"Fine, fine, let's drop this," Gilbert said and downed his drink.

He didn't, however. Drop the matter that is. Francis was one of his very best friends, so Gilbert had a right to know what was going on in his life! How else was he supposed to help his friends if he knew nothing in detail? If Francis' situation was 'complicated', Gilbert would surely set it all right.

Now, whenever there were lovers, there always were letters involved, particularly when there was a long distance between the parties concerned. So, Gilbert's first object was to find out if Francis had sent any significant letters in Paris. And who would know better than one who had access to Francis' study, so it was only natural and most convenient that Gilbert should ask Lovino to help him.

"Francis' love letters?" Lovino uttered the very next morning. "The fuck should I care?"

Gilbert tilted his head in what he thought was an appealing manner. "Aren't you curious?"

"No. like I have nothing better to do."

"Come on, you've got to help me, it's going to be fun!"

Lovino continued dusting the shelf, unaffected. "You don't need me to rummage in Francis' desk."

Well, Gilbert could hardly argue with that. If Lovino had never paid attention to Francis' papers when cleaning his study, he wouldn't be of any particular use now. But that wasn't the point. Gilbert was a little astonished to realise that actually he wanted Lovino to go with him solely for company, and, if he was honest, he wanted Lovino to want to accompany him, too.

So he crossed his arms feigning disinterest and said so. "You're right, I don't need you," he agreed. "But you are kind of fun to spend time with sometimes so I thought I'd ask. But," he hurried to add, "I'm just as fine without you. You'd probably end up making a mess anyway."

"What?" Lovino's hand had frozen mid-movement and he shot Gilbert perhaps yet the angriest look that Gilbert had seen no him. Well, perhaps Gilbert's company was too awesome for Lovino then. Too bad. Couldn't be helped then.

"I said you'd mess up," he uttered, a surprisingly big part of his good mood now gone.

"Not that!" Lovino snapped at him. "I meant – whatever! Fine! I'll go with you!"

"Huh, you will?"

"Are you deaf? I said so, didn't I? But- but only to laugh at you if you get in trouble!"

"Ha ha, awesome!" Excited, Gilbert grabbed Lovino's wrist and started to drag him to Francis' study, which was on the first floor. Francis would still take at least three hours to show up downstairs, so they had plenty of time.

"Let go, I can walk by myself, damn it!" Lovino grumbled, but Gilbert was too cheerful to hear him properly. "And if I get into any trouble because of this, you'd better take the blame!"

"I will, I will. Here's let's go in," Gilbert tried the door. "Damn, it's locked."

"I've got a key." Lovino pushed him out of the way and opened the lock.

Francis' study was spacious and furnished with bookshelves, sofas and chairs, and, of course, a large desk. The desk had many drawers, and Gilbert was sure that letters of every kind were kept in them. "Great! Let's get to business."

Without a scruple, the Prussian marched to the desk and opened the first drawer.

"Don't you think you're being intrusive and rude?" Lovino asked from a small coffee table by which where he was standing, determined not to join such questionable antics.

"This is all in service of a friend," Gilbert replied carelessly, opening the second drawer. "Bingo! There's some letters here."

Lovino snorted in response, and for a while they remained silent while Gilbert flipped through the letters. It was quickly done, as the Prussian wasn't immoral enough to read ones which he found concerning state business, and there was a notable lack of any personal letters. "Humph," he said and opened the third drawer.

"Maybe he keeps his personal stuff in his bedroom," Lovino offered, approaching Gilbert carefully. It looked like curiosity was taking a hold of him, too.

"Damn, maybe," Gilbert allowed. "But no, there are some here, too. Can you hold these?" He handed Lovino a stack of letters apparently concerning managing the estate. "No, nothing here, either..."

A loud thump coming from upstairs made them both jump, and Lovino hastily shoved the letters back to Gilbert. "That's Francis' room above this one! He's awake!"

"Can't be this early," Gilbert argued, but he was getting a little nervous as well so he reached to take the letters Lovino was holding. Unfortunately, the Italian let go of them before Gilbert had his fingers around them, and the twenty or so letters found a new place on the floor. "Shit," Gilbert muttered and crouched to pick them.

Lovino muttered something in Italian and knelt down to help him. "Hurry, damn it!"

"Hey, relax! Look what already happened when you hurried too much. Nothing is -"

"Shut up, I get it," Lovino interrupted him, eyes tightly fixed on the floor and the letters.

"What is it that you get?"

"That I always make a mess of everything, damn it!"

"I didn't say that!"

"Yes you did! I know I'm useless, so no need to rub it in!"

Gilbert rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "No one's ever said that you're useless." But already as he spoke he remembered the haughty servant reproaching Lovino for flooding the hall with muddy water, and closed his mouth. Well, maybe no one ever said it aloud, but at least some of the servants did indeed look Lovino down their noses. "Why do you even insist on cleaning if you hate it anyway?" he asked. To him, there was no sense of doing something unpleasant if there was no need to, and as far as he knew, no one had chosen for Lovino but the Italian himself.

"Because I don't want to be a damn freeloader, that's why," Lovino uttered edgily. "This isn't my home, I can't just sleep all day doing nothing."

"Did you just sleep all day doing nothing in Spain, then?"

"No! Antonio had wine yards and tomato fields and fruit gardens," Lovino told him, his expression softening slightly. "I used to spend a lot of time there. I really liked the head gardener, taught me many useful things. He -" But then Lovino seemed to realise how much he had said and closed his mouth with a snap. He flushed a little, again, and suddenly Gilbert was nearly overwhelmed by an urge to lean in and pinch his cheeks, just to see how he would react. He decided against it, however, because he was pretty certain of that reaction being angry yelling and maybe even a punch to his nose. Gilbert didn't fear Lovino's punch, but he didn't want to ruin the new, positive atmosphere. "Sounds pretty cool," he said instead, picking up the last letter from the floor and taking the ones that Lovino had collected. "I have a large apple garden back at home. You'd like it if you came to visit one day."

"Visit you?"

Gilbert blinked. He hadn't been paying much attention to his words – they had simply escaped his mouth. But now that he thought about it, it would surely be fun to show Lovino _his_ place and _his_ country. "Yeah, why not, one day," he said excitedly, but as he noticed Lovino's reserved expression, hurried to change the subject. "We are done here. See? Nothing bad happened even if we stumbled a little."

Lovino snorted. "Just put them back and let's be out of here." He walked to the door and put his ear to it, to make sure no one would see them coming our of the study. Technically, they were doing nothing wrong in being there, Lovino even had the key, but still there was a silly, childish excitement of them doing something forbidden and wanting to stay unnoticed.

"It's barely nine," Gilbert protested. "I doubt Franny has even -"

"Hush!" Lovino's eyes widened in panic and he jumped away from the door. "Someone's coming!"

"Who would -" Gilbert began, but then he heard how a key was indeed inserted in the lock and turned with a click. Lovino instinctively retreated to Gilbert's side, and the Prussian was just quick enough to grab a random book from the nearest shelf before the door swung open, showing a baffled Francis in the doorway.

"Gilbert? What are you doing here? And Lovino?"

"Oh, Franny! I just wanted to read one book and Lovino let me in. here, I already found it." Gilbert waved the book in the air as a proof of his words. Francis' eyes shifted from him to Lovino and then back to the Prussian again, and his lips widened into a knowing smirk. "Oh, I see."

"And what are you doing awake this early?" Gilbert demanded in return, conscious of Francis not entirely believing his story.

"I do remember mentioning to you that I have some business in town today."

"Right, you did."

Francis peered at the book in Gilbert's hand. "Which one is that?"

"Er," Gilbert swiftly glanced at the cover. "History of diplomatic Franco-Anglo relations?"

"Of course," Francis muttered, suspiciously glancing at his friend.

"Well, we are done here," Gilbert announced, anxious to be gone, seeing that Francis suspected something. "I'll just... go and read this book now. Thanks for opening the door, Lovino. Let's leave Francis to attend his matters."

With all his dignity Gilbert marched past Francis' amused little smile, Lovino right behind him. They closed the door after themselves, and Gilbert nudged for the Italian to follow him upstairs. Lovino grumbled, but followed him.

Once in Gilbert's room, the Prussian released the wide grin he had been withholding spread across his face as he threw himself on his bed. Raising his upper body to be supported on his elbows, he looked at Lovino, who was standing near the bed and inspecting the room. "That went well, didn't it?"

"Hell no!" Lovino shot at him. "He suspects something, and we didn't even find anything!"

"Doesn't matter. Ha ha, maybe we have to explore his bedroom next time."

"There's no next time!" Lovino hissed, crossing his arms. "This whole deal was stupid to begin with!"

Lovino's sharp responses did their deed – Gilbert's good mood took a giant leap towards plain irritation. "No one forced you to come, you know," he retorted. Enough was enough.

"You wouldn't shut up about it!"

"Well no worries then, because now that I know what a sourpuss you are I won't be asking again!"

Lovino opened his mouth to respond, but changed his mind and closed it with a snap. It looked to Gilbert that he was fumbling for words, but as none came out, he lifted his brow at the Italian in a disinterested manner. "If you've got nothing more to say, I have an interesting book awaiting my attention."

Lovino wasn't looking at him when he spoke, but Gilbert saw how his face reddened, and not in the cute way this time; now, Lovino's face was covered with angry red blotches instead of the even blush. Gilbert waited, but Lovino still didn't move from his spot. His lips formed a tight line, and the Prussian got the impression that he was fighting himself to part them.

Just as Gilbert decided that it was useless and he'd tell the Italian to leave, Lovino suddenly turned to face him, with his red face and defiant eyes and all.

"I'm sorry!" he barked out, then snapped his lips back together and stared, waiting for Gilbert's reaction.

The words had been a delightful surprise all right, but Gilbert wasn't convinced. "Doesn't sound like it," he retorted. Hell, after all that bitching Lovino sure could put more effort into apologising.

Lovino glared at him, and for a moment Gilbert was sure that he'd jump and bite his head off – not that he'd succeed, of course, as Gilbert's reflexes were simply superb. The Italian, however, did no such thing, but instead surprised Gilbert again.

"Well I mean it anyway, so you had better believe it or... or buzz off!"

"This is my room," Gilbert reminded him, but as the Italian shot him a murderous glare, continued, "Okay, I get it, but if you are sorry afterwards, why do you act like shit to begin with?"

Lovino wrapped his arms more tightly around himself. "It's not like I want to," he muttered. He looked so vulnerable then that Gilbert's annoyance melted away right away. "You know, when people put effort to like you, the least you could do is to treat them accordingly," he said.

Lovino lowered his gaze. "I don't want them to put effort to like me," he muttered to the floor. "I'd just... I want them to like me without effort, like other people."

Such an opening certainly took Gilbert aback. Wow, Lovino was on a roll surprising him, lately! But this also explained quite a lot about him. Gilbert shook his head at the Italian. "Man, you've misunderstood something important here if you think that people don't normally put effort into liking one another. Some simply require more effort than others... but it doesn't make it not worth it!"

At last, Lovino took a peek at him. The angry blotches on his face were blending into a calmer shade of red, making his face instantly so much cuter to look at again. Gilbert grinned at him, and for the second time he had to resist reaching and pinching those cheeks. "Doesn't mean that you shouldn't treat people properly, though," he added.

Lovino huffed. "Don't you think I try? It's not like everybody's perfect!"

A large smile spread across Gilbert's face at this. "Oh? Are you implying that I am?"

"No!" Lovino responded furiously. "I just... I try, okay. But only to those who deserve it."

Something Gilbert had eaten that morning made a glorious backflip in his stomach at that. "But I deserve it, don't I? I deserve being nice to?"

Lovino fidgeted uncomfortably and refused to look at Gilbert once again. "If you're lucky," he grumbled, and for some reason or another, Gilbert felt like laughing out loud.

"Awesome," he said, not even bothering to mask his once again excellent mood. Lovino snorted at his grinning face, and a fleeting thought passed Gilbert's mind, asking him if Lovino would blush like that if he suddenly took and kissed him right there and then.

_Huh? Since when do I- ?_

"I've got to finish cleaning," Lovino announced suddenly, taking a step towards the door. His eyes met Gilbert's for a brief second, and the Prussian felt himself blush a little. Him! Gilbert! Blushing! No way that was happening! Awkwardly he uttered a chuckle to divert Lovino's attention from his pink face. "Sure. And I had better read a few pages of this book just in case Francis gets it in his face to ask me about it."

However, when Lovino left, Gilbert didn't even look at the book he had taken from Francis' study. He had better things to do... such as realising that deciding to get to know Lovino better he had got more than what he bargained for.

xXx

After that, Gilbert found himself more and more often in Lovino's company. It wasn't intentional, at first, not fully – it was partly Francis' fault. Apparently the Frenchman had suddenly got quite a lot of extra work concerning the upcoming peace treaty, so he couldn't show Gilbert around the country so much any more, therefore asking Lovino to do it for him. He had also got extra errands in town, leaving Gilbert to amuse himself however he best could. And as it happened, Gilbert usually preferred company to being alone, which is why it was purely natural that he drifted to spending more time with Lovino. They didn't only hand around together in the mornings, but also during day time. And evenings. And, that one time, night, too, when Gilbert had managed to persuade Lovino to show him the pond that, according to Francis, possessed something mysterious that only showed around midnight. Francis had got a flue and couldn't take Gilbert to see it, so it had fallen upon Lovino to humour him. (They hadn't discovered anything mysterious at the pond though, excepting perhaps odd little butterflies in Gilbert's stomach, but no one else needn't know that.)

The more time the Prussian spent with Lovino, the better he realised how much he enjoyed the Italian's company. He enjoyed how little by little, Lovino began having real conversations with him instead of only retorting something sharp in embarrassment or annoyance, and how he got better and better at coaxing little smiles from the Italian, and how Lovino, in turn, managed to make him laugh by telling about funny mishaps of the servants, those unknown to Francis. Gilbert also liked to talk to Lovino about Ludwig, how he grew and learnt from his big brother, and eventually, Lovino began talking of his own little brother, too, though he knew very little about him; the two brothers had been separated in early childhood as their father had gone to Spain with Lovino and their mother had chosen to go to Austria with Feliciano.

"We were very small then," Lovino was currently saying as the two of them walked from the stables towards the house. "I only remember Feliciano crying a lot. Or laughing. He was either crying or laughing, all the time."

Gilbert tried to picture a younger version of Lovino and wondered if he was as difficult to approach at first as his older brother. "I can't get it why you don't seem eager to meet him again," he commented. "As I've told you before, I'm pretty sure I could know where he is. My Austrian cousin has an Italian servant, who should be around your age. I'm sure it's your brother!" Gilbert knew that if he and Luddy were separated, he would do his best to go and see his little brother as often as possible, but Lovino didn't seem as enthusiastic to meet his own brother again.

"I don't know," Lovino said bluntly. "I... No."

"But why? He's your brother!"

"We haven't met each other for years! I bet he doesn't even remember me!"

"I'm sure he does, but even if he doesn't, don't you think he would be happy to find out that he has a brother?"

Lovino kicked the ground as they walked, sending a mixture of snow and mud flying in the air. "But what if we have nothing in common? What if..." Lovino hesitated. "What if he wouldn't like me? I don't want to travel across half of Europe to find that my own brother despises me!"

"Is that what this is all about? Come one, why would he despise you?"

"Don't be stupid," Lovino snorted at him. "As if you didn't know that I'm not the easiest person to be liked."

"But I like you, and pretty much at that, so I see no reason why he shouldn't, too!"

Only after he had let the words free did Gilbert realise what he had blurted out. Hastily he cast a glance at Lovino for his reaction to see if the Italian had taken it badly; it would be no surprise for him to throw a fit over something that Gilbert said.

Thankfully, Lovino merely stiffened and stole a glance at him. Gilbert could see his cheeks reddening once again, and it certainly wasn't of anger. That encouraged Gilbert to do something that he, perhaps, shouldn't have.

As an experienced officer, Gilbert had learnt not to act before thinking; instead, he had become excellent at thinking very fast and then acting even faster. But sometimes – sometimes the best strategy was to act spontaneously and follow the first instinct. It was a dangerous tactic in battle, but certain situations demanded it, and, when successful, it worked well to take the enemy aback and break through their defences.

This was one of those moments, and before Gilbert even knew himself, he had grabbed Lovino's shoulders, turned him to face him, and just like that, kissed him fully on the lips.

Lovino reacted just as instinctively as Gilbert had – after the initial shock, he forcefully pushed at Gilbert''s shoulders and retreated at the same time from his reach. "What- what was that?" he stammered, red as a tomato.

Well, that certainly wasn't the reaction that Gilbert had been hoping for. "A kiss?" he offered, trying not to show his disappointment. Hopefully he hadn't ruined anything for good...

"I know that, dumbass! I just... Why?"

Gilbert shrugged and managed half a smile. This was the result of his surprise attack, he had failed, and now he had to take the consequences. No big deal. He had nothing to lose at this point any more, so he could as well throw it all in; after all, Gilbert wasn't known for doing things with only half a heart.

"I like you," he said simply. "I said so, didn't I?"

"How was I supposed to know you meant it that way?"

Gilbert ran his hand through his hear and uttered a weak laugh. "Yeah, I thought... But if you didn't like it, it's totally cool, because I've got a queue waiting -"

"I didn't say I didn't like it," Lovino interrupted him hurriedly, then looked like almost regretting his words when Gilbert looked at him with great interest and maybe, just a little bit of hope.

"You pushed me away," he reminded the Italian tentatively, not to get his hopes up too soon.

"You took me by surprise, damn it!" Lovino defended himself, crossing his arms.

Gilbert processed this information. "So," he began slowly, "If you didn't _not_ like it, and pushed me away only because you were surprised... does it mean you liked it then?"

Lovino decidedly avoid his eyes. "M-maybe."

"Maybe?" Gilbert raised his brow.

"Fine, yes, I liked it!" Lovino snapped, but without any anger or irritation. "But you should have prepared it somehow, I don't know, give a hint or something."

"Well, I did say I like you."

"So what? How was I supposed to know how you meant it?"

Gilbert couldn't stop a large smile spreading on his lips. Okay, there was no doubt any more. His strategy had worked, because Lovino hadn't run away from him, hadn't thrown any malicious insults at him, or hadn't committed any acts of violence. And he had almost confessed to Gilbert, as well. "So, now that you know in which way I meant it, what about you?"

"What... about me?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "I don't know, for example you liking me or something?"

Lovino fidgeted on his spot. "Haven't you got it yet?"

Gilbert pouted. "You haven't said anything."

"Read between the lines, idiot!"

"Hey, I said it, so it's only fair that you say it too! Unless, of course, you don't feel that way..."

Lovino smacked him on the shoulder, making him laugh. "I do, dammit! I like you! There, are you happy now?"

Gilbert laughed out loud, deep from his chest. "Yeah," he said, looking Lovino in the eyes. "Totally! This is awesome!"

It was a giddy feeling, to feel this way, and to know that the other person felt the same too. To think that it had all actually happened, ha, and what Francis would say to that!

xXx

"I knew it," Francis said smugly, when he and Gilbert lounged on the sofa of his parlour. Lovino had been there too, but he had grown fed up of Francis' suggestive comments and left not a long time ago. "Ever since that you first announced him to be not so bad, I knew it."

Gilbert snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Well, at the very least I started suspecting something. But it was all confirmed when I found you two in my study. Speaking of which, what were you even doing there?"

"Nothing much," Gilbert answered vaguely, and Francis shrugged, returning to the actual subject. "I gave you two a little push, did you notice?" he asked with a grin.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh please. Why do you think I got suddenly so much extra work that I couldn't spend time with you?"

Gilbert laughed and shook his head. "I should have known. Trust you to stick your nose in these kind of things."

Francis lifted a brow at him. "Sounds like someone I know," he said pointedly. "I'm just better at it."

"Ha ha, well, fair enough."

For some time they just sat in silence, each occupied by their own thoughts. Gilbert's visit was coming to an end, as Francis was soon to leave for Paris for the peace treaty (and his secret lover, as Gilbert liked to keep reminding his friend just to bug him).

"So," he said after a while. "You don't mind Lovino coming with me, then?"

"Of course not," Francis assured him. "I'm glad he found someone to tame him a bit.. and to appreciate him better. I'm afraid life in this house is too dull for him, having only me and my servants for company, all of which he detests."

"You bet. Beware that the countryside won't turn you in an old man before your time, either."

"There's no chance for that," Francis announced proudly. "But speaking of Lovino, I had no idea that he has a brother. Antonio never mentioned me that."

Gilbert shrugged. "He kept it a good secret. Almost managed to convince me at some point that he didn't even care for his brother."

"But he has agreed to meet him?"

Gilbert grinned, proud of his achievement; he had succeeded in persuading Lovino not only to travel with him to Prussia, but also to meet the Italian servant, potentially his bother, in Austria. That prick cousin Roderich wouldn't be happy, of course, but that only made it better. "Yeah, he has! I'm sure that it's his brother! Imagine how awesome it'll be, me bringing the two of them together again!"

Francis laughed with him. "I agree," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, my friend, what say you? Should you persuade you lover also to join us for the evening and enjoy some wine with us?"

Gilbert grinned. "Not sure, as long as you are here, but I can try."

"Wonderful," Francis said and raised his glass to clink it with Gilbert's. "Well, my friend. To peace and love."

Gilbert mirrored his motion, smiling. "To peace and love. Dan, Franny, couldn't come up with a sappier toast, could you?"

"Shut up, Gil. I know you like it anyway."

Deny it as he like, Gilbert knew that Francis was right. And really, why even deny it? Everyone had their soft spots, and with a pleasant fire in the fireplace, good wine in his cup, and his best friend and his lover – _lover!_ – for company, Gilbert certainly saw no reasons to hide his.

X


End file.
